


The Second Coming

by closetcellist



Series: Titan Arum [3]
Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After elections and murders, Dr. Jhandir gets what he deserves and Andrew makes a difficult choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turning and Turning in the Widening Gyre

“You wouldn’t have believed the look on Suttler’s face,” Dr. Jhandir said, chuckling to himself, entirely too pleased as he sipped his drink. He’d managed to drag Andrew over for his own private celebration after he’d found out the election results that morning. Fate or luck or something else had ensured that Dr. Suttler had been present at the time, something that added immensely to the sweetness of victory. “I will admit, I didn’t have enough faith in our compatriots. I’ve never been so glad to be proven wrong.”

Andrew hummed noncommittally in response, entirely too morose for Dr. Jhandir’s celebratory mood. “There’s a lot of police around now,” he said gruffly, staring at his glass. He’d taken a sip when Dr. Jhandir had toasted, but left it untouched after that, a dark cloud to Dr. Jhandir’s current sunshine-joy.

Dr. Jhandir looked over at his friend and sighed, setting his own drink down. He’d tried to go back to the alley the day after it had happened, to see if there might be a way to hide the body or move it without Andrew’s help, but he’d seen police uniforms before he’d even gotten close and had turned around immediately. “We didn’t leave anything behind,” he pointed out. “There was no one around.”

Andrew gave him a flat look. They’d gone over this once already, a too-terse conversation in which Dr. Jhandir had tried and failed to reassure his friend that they’d be fine. It hadn’t worked especially well, and with the continual presence of police, Andrew had remained tense.

“We cannot go backwards,” Dr. Jhandir said, truthfully if a shade too philosophically. “We can only move forwards. There shouldn’t be any reason to worry, but we’ll keep an eye on the situation.” He’d thought it through several times and reasoned they should be safe, as long as they didn’t do anything else until things calmed down. While the police would have a lot of pressure from Lord Mountford to solve the case, that pressure wouldn’t do anything to increase their actual abilities; it would simply make them more anxious and likely a bit sloppy. If they avoided them entirely, there should be no problem. “I did get this whiskey for you, you know.”

Andrew sighed, a rather defeated note, and took another sip. It was delicious, he grudgingly admitted. “All right. All right. Are they making this place a real base now?”

“It will be official,” Dr. Jhandir said, returning easily to his previous enthusiasm. “Shared with Phinn. It could scarcely have worked out any better if I’d been able to choose everything myself. Of course, things will only get busier now, but with all that damned campaigning out of the way everything should be much smoother sailing. And I imagine much more interesting.”

“For who?” Andrew asked, taking another long drink. He relaxed more in his chair. The doctor did have good taste in some things at least.

“For everyone,” Dr. Jhandir said. He looked amused. “I did say we were going to lay low for a while.”

“You didn’t,” Andrew pointed out.

“Ah. Then I must have thought it,” Dr. Jhandir said, still smiling. “Is it possible you can’t read my mind by now?”

Andrew realized with a growing amusement that his friend was already a bit tipsy, and his dark mood began to lighten. He wondered if he could get the doctor to say something really embarrassing.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Jhandir continued. He was simply too pleased to be concerned about anything. “Everything will be fine.”

 

***

 

He was furious.

Dr. Suttler replayed the conversation again in his mind, colored over with disbelief. Impossible that he should have received such little confidence from the others while Dr. Jhandir pulled in so many. He didn’t know how that man had managed to deceive everyone, but it was truly a travesty.

He knew what Dr. Jhandir thought of him—it wasn’t as though the man tried to keep it a secret, or to even be remotely polite. But whatever he thought, Dr. Suttler wasn’t stupid, and even if he didn’t have their votes, he did have a few of his own friends in the Rebellion.

Dr. Suttler had helped Ms. Emery a few times, mostly with ordinary injuries; strains, sprains, bruises, minor fractures—ballet was a rather intense on the body—though he knew she likely had her own regular physician. Still, they’d gotten a chance to get to know each other and she’d trusted him with some rather privileged information before. He found an easy excuse to contact her.

“You wouldn’t have believed the look on Jhandir’s face,” Dr. Suttler said, entirely too frustrated. “I can’t believe they’d all vote for someone so obviously power-hungry. There’s something very seriously not right with that man.”

“I have heard some rather disturbing rumors,” Phoebe shared quietly.

Dr. Suttler straightened up at that; he’d take even the slightest possibility of something to use against the other doctor now. “Do you think they’re true?”

“He did work for the government,” Phoebe pointed out. “I haven’t tried to confirm any of them before, but…”

“Do you think you could?” Dr. Suttler asked. He knew it was a large favor, and a potentially dangerous one, especially if Dr. Jhandir did turn out to be as awful as he imagined.

“I’ll see what I can find,” Phoebe promised, patting his arm lightly.

Dr. Suttler braced himself for a long wait. Ms. Emery had plenty of her own work to do, after all, even just considering her performances and the amount of time she had to spend practicing her craft. You had to spend a lot of time on quality and he was willing to wait.

Phoebe contacted him three days later.

It was frankly shocking, the amount she’d found so quickly, though more disturbing was what, specifically she’d found. Dr. Suttler listened in horrified delight as she spoke. While everyone knew Dr. Jhandir had once worked for the government, and most people knew at least rumors about what the government got up to, hearing actual accounts of some of Dr. Jhandir’s work made him sick to his stomach. While most of it was in the past—hidden only by time, not effort—something that could possibly be pushed aside, Phoebe had gotten something else, this from Daphne Massey herself. Pictures—Dr. Jhandir looking quite gleeful, electrocuting a man in what Dr. Suttler recognized very clearly as the basement of the infirmary. Clearly Dr. Jhandir’s pattern of criminal behavior extended to the present.

“I don’t know if this is related,” Phoebe added, at the end of her account, though if she was sharing it, she must have thought there was a possibility. “But I heard that there was a government employee who went missing on this platform a few months ago. And now there’s been a murder of a lord’s son…”

It wasn’t an impossible leap to make, though even he would admit it _was_ a leap. Dr. Suttler thanked her, offering her a salve for her ankle that was still bothering her after her partner had fumbled a difficult lift a few nights ago. He promised to keep her updated on anything he found.

It was easy enough to find out where the crime had taken place, because of the confluence of detectives in the area. The tenants of the buildings around the alley were understandably reticent with the officers of the law, but a few of the older residents were happy enough to let in a nice young doctor and discuss the awful business over tea, if he could just look at this rash on their arm?

People would tell you a lot once you’d done them a favor, and old people were terribly nosy. Two of them had heard a commotion in the alley and caught glimpses when they’d dared to peek—a ladybird and toff; a man with dark skin; a man with red hair; someone shouting “Andrew”; and the next morning a dead lord’s son and police everywhere, interrupting their lives.

Full of weak tea, suspicion, and information, Dr. Suttler went to find the Masseys.


	2. The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer

A week after the election results had been shared, Dr. Massey requested a meeting. Dr. Jhandir expected it to be about the next steps in making his base official, but after he arrived, people kept appearing, more than seemed necessary for that conversation. When both Andrew and Dr. Suttler stepped into the room, he felt a cold thrill of warning in his core.

“I’m sorry, what is this?” Dr. Jhandir asked, turning to Dr. Massey for an explanation.

“Dr. Suttler has come to us with some concerns,” Dr. Massey said, his expression serious.

“Concerns?” Dr. Jhandir asked, glancing at Dr. Suttler, and then Andrew, whose expression was strained.

“Dr. Suttler has come across some information about the break-in at your home,” Dr. Massey said. “Which on its own might be explainable. However, he’s also brought forward some…difficult information about the recent murder of Augustus Mountford.”

Dr. Jhandir was certain his expression didn’t change, but Dr. Suttler still looked hugely pleased. “Information pertaining to me and this Mountford? And this is meant to be what? A hearing? A trial?”

“I’m afraid it’s as close as we can manage,” Dr. Massey said. The gathered group consisted of most of the newly-elected base leaders, along with the Masseys, Suttler, and Andrew. It was dangerous enough to have them all in one place, and Dr. Jhandir realized that somehow Suttler must have been extraordinarily convincing to manage such a showing.

Dr. Jhandir tamped down his anger at the other man. He could have handled this with Dr. Massey privately, he was certain of that. “If it will clear things up,” Dr. Jhandir said, keeping most of the spite out of his tone. “I don’t imagine there’s any way I can object now that everyone has gathered.”

“No,” Dr. Massey said, and Dr. Jhandir wondered if he imagined the regret in his voice. “There isn’t.”

Dr. Massey gestured for everyone to take a seat—Dr. Jhandir realized the room had been set up very much like a courtroom. He wondered vaguely whose idea that had been, and felt inclined to blame Suttler.

“Dr. Suttler has requested an opportunity to share his concerns with the group at large,” Dr. Massey said, and Dr. Jhandir understood that Suttler must have threatened to tell everyone what he thought he knew regardless of what Dr. Massey said. Dr. Jhandir admitted that might have been worse, though this certainly was far from ideal. “Dr. Suttler, you have our attention.”

Dr. Suttler stood before the group, looking entirely too proud of himself for orchestrating this moment. “My esteemed colleagues,” he began, and Dr. Jhandir barely kept back a sneer. “We have all come from varied and assorted backgrounds and most of us have found a fresh start here. But perhaps that clean slate should not have been granted so quickly.”

“Dr. Suttler,” Dr. Massey cut in. “If you could please simply tell everyone what you told us? I don’t believe it is entirely necessary to editorialize.”

“Of course,” Dr. Suttler said, though he continued in much the same tone and vein. “We all know that Dr. Jhandir used to work for the government, and I recently learned of some of the despicable work he was party to. It was, frankly, shocking.” He glanced at Dr. Massey and seemed to realize he was pushing his luck. “However, that was in the past. Unfortunately, it seems that Dr. Jhandir’s actions of this nature did not remain in the past. I believe we all heard rumors after the break in that occurred at his home, and I have come upon evidence that proves those rumors were true.” He held up a collection of photographs, before passing them around the assembled group.

Dr. Jhandir closed his eyes and sighed, quietly, as a murmur built up. He did not need to see their expressions to guess what they’d be.

“Dr. Jhandir,” Dr. Suttler said, and Dr. Jhandir opened his eyes again. “Do you have any explanation for your actions?”

“When he broke into my home, I believed he was from the government, and took the necessary steps to detain him, in case he had useful information for us,” Dr. Jhandir said, meeting Dr. Suttler’s gaze and gritting his teeth. “When it became clear he was not, I believed he still posed a security risk for our infirmary and disposed of him.” It was a perfectly neat explanation for his actions, though not the enthusiasm in the photographs, he very well knew.

Dr. Suttler hummed, noting his explanation though apparently unimpressed by it. He continued, suddenly on a different track. “The murder of Augustus Mountford has made things difficult for us over the last few weeks and is likely to continue to do so until it is solved. The residents of the buildings surrounding the scene have not been entirely forthcoming with the police, but I was able to find two witnesses to the crime, and I can say without a doubt that Andrew O’Rourke knew about this murder. In fact, he witnessed it himself,” Dr. Suttler said with an unnecessary flourish.

Andrew and Dr. Jhandir froze in their seats. It was a shock to hear Dr. Suttler say it, but it was also not entirely the revelation that either had expected. Andrew shook his head slightly, trying to indicate he didn’t know what Dr. Suttler knew; they hadn’t told him anything other than to show up here.

“Mr. O’Rourke,” Dr. Suttler said, sounding far too pleased with himself. Dr. Jhandir hated him more than ever in that moment, looking so terribly proud of playacting a lawyer in their fabricated courtroom. “Witnesses have told me that they saw a man of your description in the alley along with a man of Dr. Jhandir’s at the time of the murder, _and_ that they heard someone yelling the name ‘Andrew.’  It seems clear to me what happened, but please, share with the rest of us your version of events.”

Andrew kept the doctor’s gaze, an obvious question in his eyes, something pleading and unsure. Dr. Jhandir remembered promising everything would be fine, and it was not, but that didn’t mean it was beyond salvaging. His mind raced, trying to find a real solution and coming up only with contingencies.

“Well,” Andrew said slowly, looking away, his shoulders tense. “I was…in the alley, but—”

“That’s not necessary,” Dr. Jhandir cut in, quietly but firmly, calmer than he had expected. “I killed that man. Andrew caught me, and I convinced him to keep it a secret.” The lie was distasteful, but he felt its necessity. It was too late to erase the pictures from everyone’s minds; his reputation was already damaged and wouldn’t be helped by the truth. It would be worse all around to drag Andrew down along with him.

Dr. Suttler looked positively righteous at the confession. “Why did you kill him?”

“He was hurting a woman,” Dr. Jhandir said, repressing a small smile at the shift in Dr. Suttler’s expression. It wasn’t really any sort of victory, but that wasn’t quite as immoral a reason as what the good doctor had hoped for, he was certain.

“And the clerk?” Dr. Suttler asked, rallying himself.

Dr. Jhandir couldn’t stop his look of surprise this time. “What?”

“A Mr. Swift,” Dr. Suttler said, his own smugness reasserting itself. “He disappeared while he was on this platform.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Dr. Jhandir asked, too shocked to prevent it. He realized as soon as it was out of his mouth that it was the entirely wrong thing to say.

Dr. Suttler smiled like he’d caught him in the act itself. “So you do know about this. Did you kill him too?”

It was too late for equivocation now, that was clear enough, so he simply told half the truth. “Yes, I killed him. Swift recognized me, and would have brought a lot of trouble to the Rebellion if he’d been able to get back to someone in the government with information that I was still alive.” It was a reasonable explanation on its own. They all were reasonable explanations on their own. It was really unfortunate that they were stacked next to each other, looking so damned bloody and, he would admit, slightly unstable.

“If that’s really why you did it, why didn’t you tell anyone?” Dr. Suttler demanded. “We should have known about a threat to our organization.”

“I had taken care of it,” Dr. Jhandir said. He finally glanced over the others in the room and it was obvious he’d lost them. Phinn looked stricken—it had probably been the pictures that did it. He was too soft to accept something like that. Caroline wouldn’t meet his gaze. Only Beth looked somewhat sorry for him. It was a neat piece of character assassination, or it would have been if it hadn’t all been mostly true.

“Right,” Dr. Suttler said, looking puffed up and too pleased for someone in the room with a newly confessed murderer. “Of course. Like you took care of Augustus Mountford.” He turned to Dr. Massey. “So, there you have it. I think it’s clear to everyone; we’ll turn him over to the police.”

Dr. Massey shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

Dr. Suttler looked surprised, and Dr. Jhandir managed to find some level of amusement watching suspicion begin to crawl so slowly and obviously across his face. “But—”

“We cannot do that,” Dr. Massey cut in, almost gently, “Because we cannot risk them discovering anything about our organization.”

Understanding bloomed—Dr. Jhandir couldn’t believe what a stupidly expressive face Suttler had, the useless man—and Dr. Suttler looked pleased once again, some of his other suspicions of Dr. Jhandir’s untrustworthiness apparently proved by that statement. “Of course,” he said, as though he’d known that all along. “So we’ll…” his imagination seemed to fail him at that point.

“There really are only a few options,” Daphne Massey said, and her tone indicated she had already decided which was preferable to her.

Dr. Jhandir was watching Vernon’s face. He already knew who would disappoint him, but he believed, as he had to believe, that Dr. Massey would not.

“This is a very complicated situation,” Dr. Massey said, finally, and with a gravity that said he’d made his own decision and it was final. “Dr. Jhandir has committed a very serious crime, which cannot go unpunished.”

 _Now that it has come to light_ , Dr. Jhandir added in his own mind. Andrew still had not looked up from the floor.

“Yet the crime was not against our organization,” Dr. Massey continued, and Dr. Jhandir just managed to suppress a small quirking smile. “We are neither the law of this city nor its justice system; I am not convinced we have the right to enact any permanent punishments. It would also be a shame to lose his skills.” He glanced at his wife for a moment and she held his gaze in a meaningful glare. “However, Dr. Jhandir’s trustworthiness has been called into question, and rightly so. Obviously he will be removed from his elected position immediately, and removed from access to privileged information. That will require us to speed up the establishment and occupation of a new base, but we must do what we must. For the moment, he will be placed under house arrest, his skills available to us as need may be, but unable to cause any trouble or risk any information leaking. If he chooses to break his house arrest,” Dr. Massey glanced at Dr. Jhandir for a moment, meaningfully, “that will be another matter entirely.”

“I accept the ruling of the court,” Dr. Jhandir said flatly. “As it seems I must.” It was better than it could have been, though worse than he had hoped.

Dr. Massey nodded, apparently signaling the end of the exchange. “In that case, Daphne will take you back to your house, where you’ll stay. We’ll have to ask you to leave as well, Mr. O’Rourke. There’s still a lot to discuss. Dr. Suttler, I hope you’re able to stay.”

It took the entirety of Dr. Jhandir’s willpower to suppress a scowl at that, and some of it slipped through regardless as Dr. Suttler’s expression became disgustingly smug. He stood, allowing himself to be directed out of the room by Daphne Massey, Andrew following behind with his hands in his pockets, trying to make his large frame smaller and less noticeable.

“Doc…” Andrew said lowly, as they walked out of the building under Daphne Massey’s sharp watch.

Dr. Jhandir shook his head. “We can talk later,” he said, adding wryly, “I’m sure I’ll be easy to find.”


	3. Things Fall Apart

Andrew did come over the next day, and found Dr. Jhandir’s house a flurry of activity. Things were being moved out of the safe house by a steady stream of people, though they didn’t touch anything belonging to the doctor himself. Dr. Jhandir was sitting in his parlor, doing his best to ignore the activity, though Daphne’s presence in the room—keeping an eye on him, as though he would possibly burst from his chair and accost one of them—was proving to be a difficult irritant to ignore.

“Ah, Andrew,” he said, putting aside the book he’d been trying and failing to read. “How kind of you to visit so early in my exile.”

“I felt I ought to,” Andrew said, glancing at Daphne, who raised her eyebrow at him. He slunk into a chair near the doctor, facing away from her, though he could still feel her gaze on the back of his neck. He wondered how Dr. Jhandir could stand it.

“Ignore her if you can,” Dr. Jhandir said, blithely. “It is a challenge, isn’t it?”

Andrew nodded self-consciously. They passed a moment of awkward silence, as Andrew hadn’t planned on a public conversation, though it seemed both rude and suspicious to leave so soon.

“I wanted to say…” Andrew trailed off. He wanted to say ‘thank you’ though he wasn’t sure that was really appropriate, and it certainly would sound a odd, he was certain of that. He tried again. “Why did you…” but that was also a bit of a problem.

“It seemed like the only thing to do,” Dr. Jhandir said, answering any number of questions Andrew could have been asking. He thought the doctor probably knew what he’d meant.

Andrew nodded, mulling that over, and searching for something they could actually talk about with company. “So, they’re taking everything out?” He almost winced at how flippant that sounded.

“Most things,” Dr. Jhandir said. “Anything I don’t personally own or need. It will certainly clear away the clutter. Except for Mr. Spencer. It seems they thought if I hadn’t smothered him already I wasn’t likely to now. I think I’ll move him though. If I’ve lost everything else it seems as though I should at least get my bedroom back.”

“If you need help…” Andrew offered, glancing at his friend. It was difficult to tell what his mood really was.

“Much appreciated,” Dr. Jhandir said lightly, though it was sincere.

There was a quiet sound of footsteps, and Andrew glanced over his shoulder to see Daphne had left the room.

“This hasn’t…affect your work at the docks, has it?” Dr. Jhandir asked.

Andrew shook his head. “No, I’ve still got a job. I imagine I’ll get some funny looks, but they won’t be undeserved. I…haven’t seen Captain French since before yesterday. Don’t know if she knows yet.”

 

Dr. Jhandir grimaced, though what he said was, “I’m sure she’ll be reasonable. The fault is mine after all.”

“Not all of it,” Andrew sighed, admitting it to himself as well. “I could have done differently.”

“I thought you did very well,” Dr. Jhandir said.  He looked around, and listened to the noise from the other rooms, and sighed. “I think I’m going to find myself wanting for things to do. Could I impose upon you to run an errand for me?” He’d have to get used to asking for favors now, if he couldn’t even run out to a shop.

“Course,” Andrew said, without hesitation.

“Could you pick up some books for me? They’ve already been paid for,” Dr. Jhandir said. “I can write the titles down, and the shop. I meant to go myself but…” He spread his hands helplessly, indicating the current situation.

Andrew nodded, and silence descended on them once again, Dr. Jhandir’s mood seeming to drift toward morose. In a last ditch attempt, Andrew asked, “How are your plants?” He felt immediately ridiculous, though Dr. Jhandir smiled.

“If you’re really interested,” Dr. Jhandir said.

Andrew was not, but he nodded, and let Dr. Jhandir speak, looking more himself than he had since he’d arrived.

 

***

 

Dr. Jhandir’s house was too big.

It had seemed crowded and overfull as a full-fledged infirmary and de facto base, people coming and going at all hours, always a noise from somewhere, but a person learned very quickly to filter that sort of thing out and let it become commonplace. He thought the return of some peace and quiet might be restful, but every creak of the house as it shifted naturally became a point of alarm.

He might have been able to stand the feeling of being constantly watched if he had enough to do. He might have been able to deal with the yawning stretch of unoccupied time in front of him if he didn’t feel constantly watched. But with so much time and the pressure of unseen eyes, Dr. Jhandir was having difficulty with his confinement.

Though Dr. Massey had said they’d still have need of his services, it seemed most of the Rebellion disagreed, preferring Dr. Suttler to a now-known murderer. He could hardly blame them, but Bart Spencer was hardly company or a challenge.

With so much time to think, he couldn’t get past the question of how Dr. Suttler— _Suttler_ for God’s sake—had managed to find out about Swift. He had been so certain that they’d caught him in time. They hadn’t left a body, though of course there would have been some blood on the street. If Dr. Suttler knew, it seemed more than plausible that other people knew, and if the government was turning its eyes to this platform…

He didn’t know why Swift had been there in the first place, he realized, hours into another paranoid spiral. Perhaps they’d already known he was here and alive, or suspected it, and now the disappearance was proof. He couldn’t even try to find out, not without leaving his home. Yet if they didn’t know, he had no reason to ruin the last of his ties to the Rebellion by breaking this ludicrous house arrest.

After several weeks of not much to do but think, turning the same information over and over in the now too-quiet house, his nerves were beginning to fray.

Andrew had learned very quickly to announce himself when he came to visit, as Dr. Jhandir had been jumpy at the best of times. He’d thought perhaps the time to himself would be relaxing for the doctor, but that assumption was quickly proven wrong. They’d ended up setting a very strict, twice-a-week visit time, which gave the doctor something to plan his nothingness around and meant Andrew didn’t have to confront a gun or a knife every time he knocked on Dr. Jhandir’s door.

Still, Andrew kept to it, feeling oddly beholden to the man. It had been easy enough to blame Dr. Jhandir for everything when all he was wrestling with was his own guilt, but he’d known even then it wasn’t entirely the doctor’s fault, and Andrew was grateful to have his own freedom still. The others treated him with some level of suspicion, likely because he continued to treat Dr. Jhandir as a friend, but he faced nothing like as much hostility as the doctor.

Andrew would admit it was also gratifying that Dr. Jhandir seemed increasingly interested in his life now that the scope of his own was so limited. He was happy enough to stick to a schedule that was proving to work so well for him.

Beth, on the other hand had no such mercy for Dr. Jhandir. She’d continued to visit after the trial, mostly unaffected by the revelations, as he’d expected, though her visits were at strange times, with no pattern to them at all, and she tended to laugh at his increasing paranoia. The fact that she seemed to be right about it being all about nothing did little to help his mood and nothing to help their exchanges.

“I thought perhaps this would turn out to be a blessing,” Dr. Jhandir said, frustrated, after Beth had shown up unannounced once again, startling him more than he cared to admit. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so bored in my entire existence.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right,” Beth said, smiling to herself as she crossed over to Dr. Jhandir. She rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, but Dr. Jhandir jerked away as though scalded.

“Could you possible keep your hands to yourself for a single moment?” Dr. Jhandir asked, venomously. “Even children can manage that.”

“Excuse me?” Beth asked, incredulously.

“I cannot understand your continued obsession with touching people,” Dr. Jhandir said, too heated for such a small infraction.

Beth narrowed her eyes at him. “That is no way to talk a person. I’m doing you a favor by coming here to talk to you at all. Given your situation do you really think you have the right to police _my_ behavior?”

“I think I have the right to expect not to be pawed at in my own home,” Dr. Jhandir snapped back.

“You are possibly the only person in the entire city who wouldn’t appreciate my perfectly reasonable attempt to offer you some kind of human contact,” Beth said. “I’ve never been able to understand what your problem is. You let Irishman get close enough.” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh ho, is that the problem then?”

“What,” Dr. Jhandir gritted out, his tone entirely warning with no question attached.

“I should have guessed there wasn’t a limit on how many vices could live in one person,” Beth continued, her tone mocking now. “Though now that I think about it, it does seem a bit obvious.”

Dr. Jhandir was furious now. “You certainly aren’t one to judge in that arena,” he shot back. “You don’t think it’s possible I don’t enjoy your touch because I can’t be certain where your hands have been?”

Beth flushed an angry red. “You have one chance to take that back,” she warned.

“I don’t intend to,” Dr. Jhandir replied coldly.

“Do you honestly not understand that you’re a social pariah?” Beth asked. “You’re running out of friends to lose, you lunatic.”

“This is still my house,” Dr. Jhandir hissed through clenched teeth.  “And I don’t want you in it. Now _get out_.”

Beth drew in a deep breath, her glare murderous in itself, before turning on her heel and storming out. Dr. Jhandir waited until he heard the slam of the front door before he moved, letting out a heavy breath through his nose, though his tension didn’t lessen. He paced the room and back a few times, but the energy that required wasn’t sufficient to burn away what was twisting up inside him.

He headed down into the basement to check on Spencer simply for something to do, and possibly to complain loudly to someone who wouldn’t interrupt him, though there was no one around to prove that happened. Dr. Jhandir ended up spending a good amount of time there, as the afternoon faded into the evening, cleaning everything he could find to clean, though none of it needed the effort.

He finally gave in to his rumbling stomach when it was fully dark, heading up to his office and then his parlor, before he froze.

There was something wrong.

For a moment, Dr. Jhandir couldn’t tell what it was, and he’d been so on edge all day since Beth’s visit that he tried to tell himself it might be his imagination again. Quiet wasn’t a warning sign; his house had been quiet since the start of his house arrest, excepting his time spent with Beth and Andrew. He scanned the parlor, trying to see what his unconscious mind might have noticed. A chair moved? Plant pot in a different place? He didn’t think so, but the feeling wouldn’t leave him.

Dr. Jhandir stepped lightly on the carpet, moving as quietly through the room, looking over everything carefully, listening for any sounds. If he was crazy, at least no one would be here to notice; if someone was here, well, then he wasn’t crazy.

The door to his bedroom was partially open.

Had he closed it earlier? He couldn’t remember.

The room visible through the small opening was empty, nothing on the floor, no obvious signs someone had been there. He needed his gun; he’d have to chance it.

Dr. Jhandir carefully pushed the door open the rest of the way and froze. A man sat at his small desk, jotting something down into a notebook, looking completely relaxed and at home. He smiled up at Dr. Jhandir as the door opened.

“Hello, doctor,” Dave Heaton said quietly.

 


	4. The Center Cannot Hold

Dr. Jhandir stared, his mind blank as he slowly descended into a cold panic.

“Not even a greeting?” Heaton asked. “That’s rather rude. Though I suppose you never were one for unnecessary politeness.”

Heaton snapped his notebook shut and Dr. Jhandir jumped. He could feel his heart through his chest, could hear it in his ears, and that was all he could focus on. He felt paralyzed, like a bird in the eye of a snake.

“Did you forget you’re not the most frightening thing in this city, doctor?” Heaton asked, standing in one fluid motion.  Dr. Jhandir started again, making a small noise. “That’s a very dangerous thing to do.” Heaton slowly stepped around the desk, keeping Dr. Jhandir pinned with his gaze. “They suggested I ask nicely if you’d like to be brought in for questioning. In case you knew anything about all the trouble we’ve been having with this little rebellion issue. But you know, you have a lot of papers here that would make _very_ interesting reading. What do you think? Do you want to come quietly or do you want to have some fun?” Heaton grinned, a row of solid white teeth too bright in the dim room.

Dr. Jhandir finally moved, turning and bolting as quickly as he could out of the room and across his parlor. He made it halfway through the room before he hit the ground with a crash, Heaton slamming into his back without making a sound along the way.

“I have to admit, I’ve always wondered if you Science Division types could hold up under the things you do to other people,” Heaton said, his elbow pressed firmly and painfully into Dr. Jhandir’s back with most of his weight. “What do you think?”

“No,” Dr. Jhandir wheezed, responding to the situation and the question, scrabbling desperately at the carpet as though he could pull himself out from under Heaton by willpower alone.

“That was my thought as well,” Heaton admitted, shifting his weight and standing, dragging Dr. Jhandir up with him by the collar and holding him in place against the back of a settee. “But luckily for you, I’m going to be kind, so you won’t have to find out.”

Dr. Jhandir clawed at Heaton’s hand and arm, but it felt wrong, too hard, and he realized in a new depth of fear that it was his mechanical one.

“Now, let’s see,” Heaton mused, considering the possibilities of the room. “I think…you choked to death.” He nodded, to himself. “Yes, that sounds right. You choked to death on dinner, all alone in your home, with no one to help you. It was very sad. But really, a rather common accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

Dr. Jhandir whined thinly as he struggled to get out of Heaton’s grip, the mechanical man apparently unconcerned with his efforts. Heaton patted his pocket absently with his free hand, distracted for a moment as he tried to find something for Dr. Jhandir to choke on.

Dr. Jhandir flailed behind him, hoping there might be something on the settee, something nearby, anything he could grab to use as a weapon. His fingers brushed the edge of some papers, and he pawed at them, shifting them until he felt something more solid. He managed to wrap his fingers around it and swung it up at Heaton, aiming as best he could for his neck. Heaton saw the movement and leaned away, but it wasn’t quite far enough. The letter opener buried it into Heaton’s cheek, breaking the skin with force rather than sharpness.

Heaton pulled back, bringing his free hand to his face, feeling the letter opener stuck there, and loosening his grip on Dr. Jhandir’s throat just enough for him to wriggle away, stumbling and crawling around the crowded furniture in the room as Heaton slowly pulled the letter opener from his face. Dr. Jhandir looked around frantically for something else that could be a weapon, and grabbed one of the larger plant pots, turning just as Heaton leapt over the chair in between them and smashing the pot over his head with all his strength, shattering it into large, dangerous shards.

Heaton staggered, sinking to one knee. He shook his head, trying to clear the spots from his vision and Dr. Jhandir grabbed one of the larger shards of the pot, stabbing it into Heaton’s neck with as much force as he could. It was sharp and buried deep, slicing Dr. Jhandir’s hands in the process though he barely noticed. Heaton fell forward to his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth and cheek. He tried to pull the shard from his neck, his fingers failing to find purchase on the blood-slicked pottery.

Dr. Jhandir moved again, his thoughts reeling and spinning out of control, away from him. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, then matches, before returning to the parlor, to see Heaton now on the floor, the shard in his hand and a huge, spreading puddle of blood underneath him. Dr. Jhandir stuck the knife in his belt and grabbed a tumblr from the parlor cabinet, wheeling into his bedroom and dumping cognac on the desk, over all the papers there, and lighting a match, before racing down the stairs, tripping on the last few and stumbling into his office to do the same to the desk there.  It spread fast once it caught and he scrambled to get out, to get outside, to get away.

Dr. Jhandir ran blindly, heedlessly through the dark streets, turning down smaller and smaller ones every chance he got, seeking only to get away with no thought of a destination, desperate and harried.

There was a noise. The doctor threw himself into a smaller alleyway and froze, hearing it again. It took him a long time to realize it was him making the noise, and that he recognized it, though he had never made it before. Such a pitiful, fearful sound.

Dr. Jhandir covered his mouth with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in slowly through his nose, trying to calm down and think. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, but the platform wasn’t infinite, so he couldn’t be that lost. He needed to get inside somewhere, he thought, forcing himself to take another slow breath and open his eyes. Everything was gone. Heaton might not be dead. Even if he was, someone had to have given him the order and anything left of his house and the infirmary was compromised. Massey wouldn’t take him in, not now. He had to find Andrew.

He took as long as he dared to catch his breath and orient himself, before slipping back out of the alley and picking his way, quietly now, carefully and slowly, back towards streets he knew. He froze at every sound, ducking away from any moving shape, and it took an eternity to finally reach Andrew’s flat.

The door was closed, and as Dr. Jhandir rested his head against it, he didn’t hear any sound from the other side. He knocked, too softly at first, and then too loud. “Andrew?” he called, trying to be heard while not making any noise. “Andrew?”

The door remained closed and implacable. Dr. Jhandir turned away from it, leaning against the wall beside it before sliding down to sit on the ground, exhausted.

 

***

 

Andrew returned home late, slightly tipsy but not much the worse for it, looking forward to a good night’s rest. What he was neither expecting nor looking forward to was seeing Dr. Jhandir slumped on the ground by his door, hands and face red with what was most likely blood.

“Doc?” Andrew asked carefully. “What are you doing here?”

Dr. Jhandir looked up and took a moment to focus on Andrew. “Assassins,” he said roughly.

Andrew stared at him for a moment, before carefully stepping closer. “All right,” he said slowly. He looked around but there did not seem to be any evidence of assassins around them. “Why don’t we go inside then.”

Dr. Jhandir nodded, pushing himself up and leaving a smear of blood on the wall. Andrew opened the door and directed him inside, firmly seating him on the bed. He found a bottle, pressing it into the doctor’s unresisting hands. “Drink this,” he said gruffly, and Dr. Jhandir took a huge swallow without thinking, coughing and sputtering as it burned his throat. “Now, what’s going on?”

“Assassins,” Dr. Jhandir said again, looking up at Andrew with wide eyes. “Government assassins. Came to kill me.”

“To your house?” Andrew asked with a frown.

“Yes,” Dr. Jhandir said, taking another sip from the bottle. It still burned, but it wasn’t such a shock this time. He took a steadying breath. “Heaton. Dave Heaton. He tried to kill me. I got—I got away and I stabbed him. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But they know where your house is,” Andrew said, frowning.

Dr. Jhandir nodded. “I burned it down. I hope Heaton burned too. I was trying to get rid of all the papers…”

“You burned it down?” Andrew asked, shocked. “Was Mr. Spencer still in it?”

Dr. Jhandir blinked. He had forgotten about Bart Spencer, and felt a small twinge of guilt. “Yes,” he conceded reluctantly. “But he was in the basement. I don’t know how much has burned.”

Andrew sighed and looked at the door, thinking about how long it would take to get to the doctor’s house, though he didn’t know how long Dr. Jhandir had been waiting in the hall, how long the fire might have been burning. He grimaced, closing his eyes and letting it go, before turning back to Dr. Jhandir. “What are you going to do now?”

“I…I don’t know,” Dr. Jhandir admitted.

Andrew suddenly realized how small the other man was, and it was somehow a surprise. “Well, you had better get cleaned up,” he said decisively. Dr. Jhandir stared at him for a moment, before Andrew gestured toward the bathroom. “Go on. Wash up. You’re getting blood on my bed.”

Dr. Jhandir nodded, heading to the small bathroom as directed, and a second later Andrew heard water running. He left the doctor to it, getting a rag to wipe the blood off the wall outside his door. When he came back, Dr. Jhandir was loitering, now clean but unsure, in the middle of the room.

“Andrew, I…you might be in danger. If I stay here,” Dr. Jhandir said.

“We’ll sort that out in the morning,” Andrew said firmly.

Dr. Jhandir scanned Andrew’s expression several times, but it didn’t falter. “Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Andrew nodded, crossing his arms. “But this time, you can take the chair. I’m sleeping in my own bed.”


	5. Mere Anarchy is Loosed upon the World

Neither man slept well that night, Dr. Jhandir’s exhausted dreams punctuated by nightmares of Heaton, and Andrew’s rest interrupted by the doctor’s shifting in his sleep. Andrew was sure he wouldn’t have slept well even if the doctor had been quiet. There was a lot to process.

Dr. Jhandir had burned his house down, and likely killed Bart Spencer. While the man had shown no signs of waking from his coma, that certainly was no way to go, and no one in the Rebellion was likely to forgive that, not of the doctor, not now.

Had there really been an assassin? Andrew wondered, listening to Dr. Jhandir shift uncomfortably in the chair again. He knew his friend worried about them, had been increasingly worried about someone breaking into his home again this past month, but he also hadn’t seemed particularly well, the confinement sitting poorly with him.

Yet he had never before seen Dr. Jhandir look so terrified, had never seen him at such a loss. He didn’t think his friend would burn his house down on a whim. He liked his things too much for that, and it was an awful way to try to get out of his arrest. At the very least, Dr. Jhandir truly believed someone had come for him.

Was that good enough?

Andrew managed a few hours of sleep, enough to keep him going through the day. He took care of morning necessities before rousing Dr. Jhandir. The doctor looked terrible, obvious dark circles under his eyes, and, Andrew realized, scabbed over cuts on his hands. “Doc?”

“Is it morning?” Dr. Jhandir asked thickly, a hint of trepidation in his tone.

“Yeah. I think you should probably tell me the whole story about what happened yesterday,” Andrew said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I told you—” Dr. Jhandir began, but Andrew cut him off.

“That wasn’t a story,” Andrew said. “It was barely an explanation. I think I deserve to hear the whole thing.”

Dr. Jhandir sighed, running a hand through his hair before wincing and taking a look at the scabs. “You do,” he conceded. “I fought with Beth in the afternoon, and I was distracted. Sometime after sundown, I found Dave Heaton in my bedroom. He’s a government assassin, and I recognized him immediately. He told me he was sent to kill me or to take me in for questioning, but he’d mercifully decided to go with death instead of torture. We fought and I somehow managed to disable him. I was panicked, and I thought the best way to destroy the remaining evidence in the house relating to the Rebellion was simply to burn the entire thing down. I forgot about Mr. Spencer.” Dr. Jhandir paused. “I cannot say for certain I would have done much differently if I had remembered. The safe house was clearly compromised, and I couldn’t afford to leave anything behind that would give them information about the Rebellion or about where I might go.”

“You said this Heaton might not be dead?” Andrew asked.

“I didn’t check before I set the fires,” Dr. Jhandir said, grimacing. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. He had bled out a great deal, so I think…but can’t be sure.”

“Dr. Massey is going to be looking for you,” Andrew said. “Do you think…?”

Dr. Jhandir shook his head. “Even if he believed me, I’ve put them at too much risk. I can’t depend on him again. I’ve compromised the safety of the Rebellion,” he said, looking up at Andrew. “I’ve compromised your safety. And I am sorry, about that.”

Andrew met his gaze, and nodded after a moment.  “Well, you can’t stay here.”

Dr. Jhandir looked away and nodded. “Yes, I’ll, I’ll get out of your way—”

Andrew held up his hand. “You can’t stay here, because this is one of the first places they’ll look. We’ll have to figure out something else. But I have an idea. I need to check it out first. But before that I have to work.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dr. Jhandir asked, quietly.

“Stay here until I get back,” Andrew said. “Don’t leave. Don’t answer the door if someone knocks. Just…don’t do anything. Maybe shave.”

Dr. Jhandir nodded. “All right.” He paused, and Andrew began to head to the door. “Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

 

***

 

“Where is he?” Daphne Massey hissed, stabbing her finger into Andrew’s chest. “I know that you know.”

“Where is who?” Andrew asked, managing a convincing look of confusion. In truth, he’d been surprised enough when she’d shown up at the docks. He’d expected a confrontation like this closer to home, though he supposed his work was well enough known and she’d have realized where he’d be.

“Dr. Jhandir,” Daphne said, scowling. “Don’t play this game, Mr. O’Rourke.”

“I know where he should be,” Andrew said. “But I’m assuming if you’re asking me, he’s not at his home.”

Daphne shook her head, looking furious. “He burned it down. He killed Bart Spencer.”

Andrew looked shocked. “Why would he do that?”

“You tell me,” Daphne said, glaring at him.

“I really don’t know,” Andrew said. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

“I really thought you were a better person than this,” Daphne said, red-faced. “An actual decent human being.”

Andrew thought about that for a moment. “You know, I don’t think you did,” he said, crossing his arms. “Or you wouldn’t have accused me of hiding the Doc in the first place if he’d done something so wrong.”

“When we find out you helped him, things are going to go very poorly for you,” Daphne hissed, before turning and storming away.

Andrew waited until she was gone before he moved, jogging quickly back to the dock. He had favors to ask, sooner than he’d hoped.

 

***

 

“We need to leave,” Andrew said as soon as he got back to his flat. The sun was just beginning to set. He took in Dr. Jhandir’s appearance. “I thought I told you to shave.”

“I did,” Dr. Jhandir said. He’d cleaned up his facial hair. It was one of the few things he’d had to do. He’d thought his house was too big, but Andrew’s flat was far, far too small to stay in all day with nothing to do.

“I meant shave it all off,” Andrew said. “Disguise yourself even a little bit.”

“Oh,” Dr. Jhandir said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes, of course. I can do that.”

“Maybe your head too,” Andrew said, smiling to himself.

“What?” Dr. Jhandir asked, looking up sharply before he caught Andrew’s expression. “Is this really the time for jests?”

“I’m allowed,” Andrew said. “I’m saving your life. Again. Here.” He pulled out a rough shirt and waistcoat from the bag he’d brought home. “Try these on. I think they’ll fit.”

Dr. Jhandir took them skeptically, but nodded. His own shirt was stained, and it was noticeably nice for the area they were in. He stepped into the small bathroom again to shave properly and change. The new shirt was still a little large, but nothing so obvious as Andrew’s clothes had been.

“Fits all right,” Andrew commented when Dr. Jhandir returned.

“It’s fine.” Dr. Jhandir said. He quickly shrugged the waistcoat on to feel more dressed. “Did your idea pan out?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. “You’re going on an airship.”

“How did you manage that?” Dr. Jhandir asked.

“I asked,” Andrew said with a wry smile. “There are a few people that still like me.”

“Cordelia,” Dr. Jhandir said.

“Captain French,” Andrew agreed. “Though she’s not very happy with me now.”

“I am sorry about that too,” Dr. Jhandir said, looking down. “I never intended—” He cut himself off as he realized Andrew was packing rapidly. “Are you…coming with me?” He asked, shocked. “But…you’re still in good standing. And Cordelia…”

“Not good enough. Daphne Massey showed up at the docks,” Andrew said. “She accused me of hiding you.”

“You are hiding me,” Dr. Jhandir pointed out, bemused.

“Be that as it may,” Andrew said. “I might not be making the best decisions anymore but I think I’ve done enough to earn a little more respect than that. She doesn’t agree. I have a few friends left—not enough.”

“I certainly know what you mean,” Dr. Jhandir said quietly.

“We just have to make it to the docks,” Andrew said, shrugging on his bag. “Follow me, and try not to be seen.”

Dr. Jhandir nodded, slipping out of the flat after Andrew. He’d been afraid Daphne or someone else might have been watching his flat, but no one accosted them as they snuck out the door. They stuck to back alleys when they could, Dr. Jhandir looking over his shoulder at every other step. A few times they had to freeze, holding their breath as someone walked by, though they managed to make it to the docks unmolested and apparently unseen. Captain French’s ship was docked nearby and when they reached it they found her waiting for them.

Dr. Jhandir caught her gaze and she shook her head. “I’m not doing this for you,” Captain French said, her expression implacable and unimpressed before she turned to lead the way up the gangplank. “Now move. In there.” She directed them toward a small hatch in the deck. “Stay quiet and you might get there safe.”

“Where are we going?” Dr. Jhandir finally asked, ducking into the small space. It was cramped; definitely not a pleasant place for a long trip, but it was a way out and a way forward.

Adam slipped in next to him, and Dr. Jhandir was very glad he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. “We’re going to Manhattan.”


End file.
